


Blood and Hearth

by hit_the_books



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Dark Will Graham, Domestic, Frottage, Hannibal has the patience of a saint, M/M, Making Out, Manhandling, Murder Husbands, Mutual Pining, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Rutting, Sexual Content, They kissed after the Fall but it didn't go any further than that until now, Will Graham Loves Dogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:00:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28215099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hit_the_books/pseuds/hit_the_books
Summary: Accepting gifts of blood and hearth, Will has yet to take their relationship any further than the singular kiss he shared with Hannibal when they washed up on a beach two years ago.Now, settled into a beautiful home near the French Alps, and with a trail of bodies behind them, Will is starting to think that finally he might be able to take the next step in his relationship with Hannibal.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 111
Collections: Fannibal Holiday Gift Exchange 2020





	Blood and Hearth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mydangergays](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydangergays/gifts).



> Ahhhhhh, so happy to be posting this :D
> 
> This fic has been written for the amazing mydangergays as part of the [Fannibal Gift Exchange](https://twitter.com/FannibalGift).
> 
> I really hope I've done [aguycalledwasd](https://twitter.com/aguycalledwasd)/mydangergays' prompt justice. He wanted post-fall Hannigram with "murder husbands having an amazing life" and gave permission to "be as creative as you wish honestly". Hopefully this has delivered that with a slither of angsty Will <3 Also, there's a little surprise at the end of the story C:
> 
> Thanks to [lesbianettes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianettes)/[antlergraham](https://antlergraham.tumblr.com/) for the beta read.

Stillness permeates the house in a way nowhere has since Wolf Trap. Years lie between that life and now, but Will still can’t get used to being in one place. Not after the constant running, dodging, sliding and slipping through the cracks of existence to finally come to a rest, after two long years, in one place.

The space reminds him of the cliff top home they plummeted from, glass fronted on one and a bit sides, opening the space up to get the best of the sun during the day. Clear and open and free. It’s not dark—it’s bright and big, everything on show. Will feels exposed, but only to Hannibal and he wonders how much of that is because of the slotting together of each of them until there’s nothing left between them but truth.

Will sits in the open-plan kitchen, the living room just steps away, a cup of coffee between his hands. The French press is beside him with another cup’s worth of the smooth, sweetly bitter stuff waiting, and Will wonders at everything. The dogs are snoozing by the couches, all four of them. They had been on an epic hike the day before, so Will can’t blame them for taking advantage of the quiet.

But Will can't lay in his bed any longer. He needed to get up, and so he sits at the breakfast bar by himself, Hannibal still asleep upstairs ( _still_ in his own bed).

Two separate beds, a room between them. Will looks up towards the upper level, as if he can see right through the ceiling and floor, and see Hannibal sprawled in his bed, taking a lazy Sunday for once. The image comes to Will’s mind, unbidden, clear as the mussed black dyed hair and crumpled pajamas, a red plaid affair.

He’d spent many hours staring at Hannibal’s sleeping form. From hotel rooms to apartments to cottages—staring and watching, thinking. Or trying not to think. Because it isn’t the low burning pull of attraction that scares Will, though he had yet to act upon it, bar their first kiss on that beach when he realized that Hannibal was blissfully still alive.

What scares Will is the things he’s done since with Hannibal. Scares him because of how much he enjoys it and he’s not sure he can give into both sides of himself and still be Will. To give into both the pull of love and murder.

The two years that lie behind them includes a trail of bodies that no one would ever put together that it was the two of them. Unless they were in the unfortunate position of being told so by Will or Hannibal directly and that would mean said individual would not be long for this world. In fact, Will’s need to kill had almost gotten them caught a few times, as he came to accept all parts of himself. His mind is frequently a shifting maelstrom of memories, associations, revelations and urges.

Perhaps, Will summarizes as his gaze shifts back to his cup of coffee and he takes a sip, the reason Hannibal has not forced things further between them is because he wants to have _Will_ and not some storm of others churning inside of him. It was after all one of the reasons why they had settled down near the French Alps. Isolated enough that to encounter anyone would take some effort, but not so isolated that civilization is an afterthought.

And his mind was quieter, his thoughts nearly always his own. Thoughts that admired the ways in which Hannibal just existed—the way he delighted in cooking or playing the piano. The manner he would curl up on the couch, a book in his hands, and the dogs sat around him. His sketches and charcoals. Everything that was Hannibal outside of manipulating and killing. Will found much to admire and hold onto, aside from their joint love for the kill.

Finishing his cup, Will reaches out to the press, about to pour a second when a hand stops him. Hannibal stands beside him and Will wonders how long he’s been there, just watching him and waiting. Hannibal’s hand is light, skin warm and Will wants to melt into it, wants to open himself to Hannibal, to finally take the whole of his becoming in hand.

“Good morning,” Hannibal says, mouth beside Will’s right ear as his body comes to bracket Will’s against the counter, while he remains on his stool. The closeness is not unusual for them, for though Will and Hannibal haven’t joined each other in more than just a life lived—flirting is not that alien to them.

“Good morning, though it’s almost noon,” Will muses.

Hannibal huffs a small chuckle and Will can feel the sound against his back. He’s pretty sure Hannibal is topless behind him, skin pressing against Will’s plaid shirt.

“I seem to recall a twenty mile hike yesterday,” Hannibal points out, voice husky and teasing, as if he’s sensing a trembling shift in Will that balances on the precipice of more.

“Are you saying you’re getting old?” Will teases.

Hannibal leans against him and says into Will’s ear, voice a whisper, “Oh, I’m not _that_ old.”

A breath catches in Will’s throat and he feels warm and cold at the same time, heat pooling in his belly as a shiver shimmers down his spine.

“No, I suppose not,” Will replies.

“Is everything alright, Will?”

Shifting on the stool, Will slides round as Hannibal makes space for him. They face each other, Hannibal between Will’s legs, slotting there perfectly, Hannibal’s hands on the tops of Will’s arms. Not holding him in place, but anchoring him. The stool means Will has to look up to meet Hannibal’s gaze, the eye contact something he couldn’t have done all those years ago when they first met.

Will licks his lips and he catches Hannibal tracking the movement. A confession curls inside Will’s chest, the words wanting to spill forth from him like a torrent.

“You’ve… been patient,” Will observes.

Hannibal quirks his head to the side, expression thoughtful then answers, “If you’re referring to my… courting of you, then yes.”

“Courting?” Will raises an eyebrow. “That’s an interesting way of describing it, ‘courting’. I’ve not had some balcony for you to serenade me from beneath.”

“You’ve instead accepted gifts of blood and hearth.” Hannibal’s tongue darts out across his lips and Will tracks the movement automatically, eyes focusing on those lips. Wondering what it would be like to kiss them now that they’re not covered in sea spray.

“I suppose I have. Hearts instead of flowers. Lungs instead of chocolates. Kidneys instead of jewels.” Will looks up at Hannibal, coquettishly from under his eyelashes.

“Has something changed?” Hannibal asks.

Will reaches out and strokes his right hand down Hannibal’s bare left arm. His fingers map the lean muscle there and drink in the warmth radiating from Hannibal’s skin. “I think, perhaps, I am finally at peace with,” Will waves his free hand around their home, “all of this,” then motions his hand between the two of them, “and us.”

A smile curves Hannibal’s lips as he bends towards Will. “There is an ‘us’?”

“There is an ‘us’,” Will confirms, his hand sliding up to the back of Hannibal’s head as he pulls him down into a soft and open kiss.

Mint washes over Will’s tongue as he opens to Hannibal, and Hannibal does not delay in finally savoring Will outside the chill of near death. The kiss flips a switch inside of Will, one that’s been buried deep in his heart and his chest aches with need and relief. A long, low moan rumbles through him and encourages Hannibal to press closer to where Will hangs off the edge of his stool. Without warning, Hannibal scoops Will up and draws Will’s legs around his hips so he can carry him bodily towards one of the couches without breaking their kiss. Will clings to Hannibal, light headed from being handled so.

Hannibal gently deposits Will on the soft gray suede of the couch, lying him out and ending their kiss for the briefest moment until Hannibal is crowding over Will, falling between Will’s open legs. Lips meeting once more, the two of them struggle for air as they work through eight years of denial, Hannibal hard against Will’s own filling length. It’s more human contact than either of them have had in over two years and Will’s hands wander up and down the perfect muscles of Hannibal’s back, marveling at the firmness there that’s so unlike what he’s experienced in the past. The touches encourage Hannibal to roll his hips against Will’s, his arms steady pillars either side of Will’s head, and they both groan into each other’s mouths at the sweet pressure.

With more determined motions, Hannibal begins to rut against Will, each sing of friction perfectly jerking along Will’s hardness and he knows, he knows, that he can’t take much more of this as he chases the taste of Hannibal. Their tongues war at the same pace as their hips and Will can sense Hannibal is nearing the same precipice as Will. Finally, lungs screaming for air, Will breaks away from Hannibal’s mouth, panting and moaning as he gulps. Hannibal leans in and presses kisses to Will’s cheek, light fluttering touches of reverence and then with one final press Will shudders and comes undone beneath Hannibal as Hannibal does the same above him, their low cries and grunts shared.

For a brief moment, Hannibal just hangs above Will, a sheen of sweat across his forehead and shoulders, then slowly he lowers himself down, so that they can cuddle without Will being crushed. Hannibal’s head rests on Will’s chest, and Will kisses the fine black hair of Hannibal’s head as Hannibal presses gentle kisses to Will’s chest.

Will shudders out a breath, relief washing through him. “Hannibal, I—”

“I know, mylimas, I know.” Hannibal looks up and presses a gentle kiss to Will’s chin.

Out of the corner of his eye, Will’s aware of the dogs starting to stir. He’s also aware of the fact that both he and Hannibal probably need a shower and that if they stay on the couch like this for much longer, there will be some gross regrets. But for now, Will is content to finally lay there and accept the world from Hannibal as adoring eyes meet his in equal measure.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :D


End file.
